Chapter 1

"Jughead?" Betty's voice echoed through the empty, abandoned drive-in, her footfalls splashing in the puddles. She ducked beneath the cracked awning of the snack shack, wanting to get out of the rain for a brief moment. This place was so rundown and broken that it wasn't a surprise that the town had decided to demolish it. But the wrecking crew hadn't come yet, and that gave her a little bit of hope at least. She didn't have the same ties to the drive-in as Jughead, but she understood why he wanted to badly so save it. She would help him. They could write articles in the school paper, hopefully drum up some interest.

She shivered as the wind picked up. The misty rain had caused her sweater and buttoned up top to cling to her skin. The weight of the water had caused her blond ponytail to come loose. In her haste to get out of her house undetected, she had forgotten her jacket. Thinking of it hanging on the hook in the foyer made her pause. Perhaps it was better that she left it. It would make her mother think Betty was still tucked away in bed like the good little girl she was. But Betty was tired of being good. What had it gotten her? What had it gotten Polly? The pressure had literally made her sister crazy. It wouldn't do the same to her. Betty Copper was going to live and be happy, no matter what her overbearing mother had said about it.

In the recent weeks, only one person had made her feel alive-with wonder, with curiously, with hope, and there was one more feeling that Jughead Jones had stirred up in her, a feeling that was very new to her. Longing. Need. Lust. Growing up, she had pined for the boy next door, Archie Andrews, a boy who was always looking past her. Now she realized she had wasted so much time on him when there had been someone else, far smarter, far more caring and kinder, far more fun and quick-witted. Jughead had lived in Archie's shadow since they all became friends on the first day of kindergarten. But now she had seen Jughead in a different light. Never again could his glow be dulled by Archie. Jughead had a brightness all of his own, electric and undeniable.

But where was he now? She shielded her eyes against the glare of the street lights and rain, her gaze focusing on the projection room. He loved sitting in there, closed off from the rest of the world, lost in the fantasy of whatever movie was playing. Jughead often went quiet, even when they were together, but never unreachable for this long. Jason Blossom's murderer still hadn't been found, and someone had burned that car that she and Jughead had found last night. They had made themselves known to the killer. No one in Riverdale was safe, especially not the two of them.

That was the reason she was out in the middle of the night, concerned for his safety. At least that's what she kept telling herself. When the school year started, all anyone could talk about was how hot Archie had gotten over the summer, but Jughead had changed, too. Even though he never stopped eating, he'd always been a lean, lanky kid, but over the last few months, he'd filled out and put on a little muscle. And a few weeks ago when they started working on the paper again, she'd been mesmerized by the way his long fingers had moved across the keyboard of his laptop. She found herself wondering what those fingers could do if they touched her.

And then they had. Thirty-two hours ago he had fed those fingers through her hair, tilted her head up and had kissed her. Then she had ruined the moment-their moment-with her preoccupation of the Polly and Jason mystery. After she shouted something about the car, when she should have been kissing Jughead, they had run off to find the sheriff and the rest of the night had been whirlwind of police and questioning. In the early dawn hours, when Sheriff Keller had finally let her go home, Jughead wasn't in the waiting room of the police station like she'd hoped. But her dad was, ready to give her an earful of the reasons why she needed to leave this Polly thing alone.

When she and her dad were alone in the car on the drive home, all she could think about was that kiss and why Jughead wasn't there waiting for her. Did he regret it? Did he think she regretted it? The only thing she regretted was how she had reacted. Yes, she had been thinking about kissing him for a long time now, but she never expected Jughead to actually act on it.

He hadn't answered his phone all day. No texts either. Because of the kiss or because of something else, Jughead Jones was avoiding her. She should be annoyed, but it made her nervous.

She had stopped by the trailer park where he lived first, but the lot where his trailer used to be was empty. She had only been there once before. When they were in the second grade, Jughead had been out of school for ten days straight. She had called over to his house, but no one answered. Archie told her not to worry, that he had heard their friend was just out with chickenpox, but Betty felt like it was something more. During lunch, she had sneaked into the front office, when the receptionist was in the teacher's lounge and gotten Jughead's address from his personal file. Instead going right home when the final bell rang, Betty rode her bike over to Juggy's.

No one had answered the door when she knocked on it, so she pushed it opened and stepped inside his darkened trailer. There he was, laying on the couch, a blanket pulled up to his chin, and most surprisingly, no knitted crown cap on his head. He looked so lonely and lost. The memory of a sick, skinny, seven year old Jughead had created a soft spot in her heart, always reserved only for him.

Suddenly, she noticed the graffiti written on the side of the projection room. Jughead Jones was here. She knew where he had to be, so she dashed through the rain now towards the cement-block shack. She knew he was here, somehow known all along that this would be where she found him.

She pushed in the broken door and found him almost exactly how she had ten years ago, alone, huddled under a thin blanket, his famous hat tossed to the ground. He was sleeping, his dark hair falling in his eyes. Snoring slightly, his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. The small room took the bite out of the cold night air, but he still had to be freezing, even with all those blankets. One of his arms had come loose from the covers, his large hand resting on the damp cement ground.

Now that she had found him, she wasn't sure what to do. Finding him had proved that he was safe, but maybe not okay. Why was he sleeping here? Where was his trailer? Where was his dad? Betty started to back away, to leave knowing he wasn't in harm's way. It was getting late, and her mother would soon figure out that Betty wasn't asleep in her bedroom. As she reached for the doorknob, she heard him stir.

"Betty?" She spun around. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He shrugged, but replied, "My dad's been an ass lately. I decided it was better to crash here than have to deal with him. Why are you here?"

His eyes were always shadowed by dark circles, but tonight they were almost purple. She went over to him and sat next to him on the edge of the cot. "I was worried about you," she said as she brushed the his wavy dark her out of his face. She cupped his cheek in her palm. His skin was cold to the touch. He leaned into her. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him, but right now all she wanted was to hold him, to just be near him.

He must have sensed what she wanted because he scooted over, pressing his back against the wall as he peeled back the covers for her. She pulled her wet sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor. When she looked back at him, he was staring, his blue eyes wide, taking in everything.

"You're beautiful, Betty. Always have been," he said, giving her a sweet smile.

She was suddenly self conscious, not because he'd made her feel like she wasn't good enough, but because she realized her shirt was a little see through. Her breasts were smaller than most girls and she was on the skinny side. Maybe she wasn't as wonderful as he thought she wasn't. What if this all blew up in their faces and ruined a lifelong friendship? Oh, to the hell with thinking and worrying. She needed to do what she wanted to do, not what she thought was the right thing to do.

Betty pulled off her shoes and climbed into bed with him. She positioned herself so that her back fit snuggly against his front. He wrapped his arms around her and signed in satisfaction as she settled into the embrace. Jughead wasn't a hugger. This was probably the closest they'd ever been to each other. He liked his personal space, so being so close to him was new.

"Comfortable?" he asked her, his lips moving against his ear, causing her to shutter. "Are you cold? I've got more blankets. . ."

When he started to get up, she stopped him. "I'm fine. Just stay. You're warming me up."

He chuckled. "Why, Betty Cooper, are you flirting with me? Are you calling me hot?"

She nudged him in the arm. "You know what I meant."

"So, you're not calling me hot?" he asked. She hurt the fake hurt in his voice.

"Shut up, Juggy," she said and they both laughed. After a moment, they went quiet. "Why didn't you wait for me at the police station?"

"Honestly, I was worried your mom would show up. The wrath of AliceCooper is worse than the wrath of God."

She giggled, but she agreed. "You're scared of my mom?"

She felt him shrug. "Aren't you? Isn't everyone?"

She laughed, and he soon joined her in the enjoyment, his chest vibrating against her back. "I was hoping you would have stuck around so we could talk, even though you were afraid Alice Cooper would have been mean to you."

"Well, I'm here now. What do you want to talk about?" She suddenly got nervous to mention it. Maybe he really did want to pretend that the kiss never happened. But if that were true, why would he have invited her into bed with him. "Betts?" he said after she stayed quiet for a while too long.

"We kissed, Juggy. You and me, we kissed."

"I remember," he replied. "I'm the one who did the kissing."

"And I kissed you back. So. . ."

"What does it mean?" he asked, and she nodded. "It means I like you. I have since we were little, and I just got tired of pretending that I didn't. So I kissed you."

"And it was perfect. But then I ruined everything by bringing up the car and Polly."

"You didn't ruin anything," he said.

Needing to look him in the eyes, she shifted until she was facing him. In the dim light, everything about him was sharp shapes and contours in the shadows. He was so handsome, more classically so than Archie. She reached out for him, resting her palm on his chest. Then she ran her fingers through his soft dark hair. His hand moved lower, until it reached the bend in her lower back, pressed her closer until every inch of their middles were touching. Betty Cooper wasn't cold anymore, but suddenly hot, flushed with fire her veins.

She tilted her head up, with eyes closed she waited for him to make a move, but when he didn't she looked up at him. "Aren't you going to kiss me?" she asked.

Grinning, he shook his head as he smiled, but then he said, "Nah. This time you have to do it." He angled his face closer to hers, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. She went stiff. They had already kissed, but she was suddenly nervous. She hadn't kissed that many boys. What if she did it wrong? What if asked she kissed him, he changed his mind about her?

No, he kissed her first. He liked her. She liked him. And she wanted to kiss him. More than kiss him. She moved her chin up, aligning herself with him. She pressed her lips into his, once, twice, three times, and then his mouth opened against hers, his tongue sliding along hers. His hands were in her hair, keeping her tightly engaged in the kiss. After a long moment, he pulled back.

"I like you, Elizabeth Cooper."

"And I like you, too, Forsythe Jones."

"Good. Glad that's settled." He tucked her under his chin, and then his arms settled around her. "Just never call me Forsythe again," he whispers.

"Deal, as long as you never call me Elizabeth."

"I promise, Betts," he said.

His eyes closed, and a moment later, so did hers.